


Piglin Gold

by SweetAndSourBerry



Series: Leverage DSMP AU [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hanging Out, Past Torture, Piglin culture, Team Bonding, Techno and Ranboo Bonding, idk what these tags are anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29292363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetAndSourBerry/pseuds/SweetAndSourBerry
Summary: Technoblade and Ranboo chill in the Nether with a clan of piglins. Ranboo gets a crash course on piglin culture. It’s vaguely fluffy.
Series: Leverage DSMP AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159235
Comments: 20
Kudos: 221





	Piglin Gold

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place directly after Leverage. You probably want to read that first, although you can probably get around not. Just know that Dream, obsessed with controlling everyone on the server, threw Technoblade into Pandora’s Vault. Phil eventually broke him out.

Ranboo had never much liked the Nether.

He was a child of the End. Cold, desolate, haunted. Nothing but chorus fruit growing out of endstone as far as the eye can see. And the Void, always the Void, above and below and everywhere.

The Nether was a different place entirely. Hot and stuffy. The sound of lava popping inescapable. Full of hostile creatures that wanted to kill him for his human features.

When Technoblade had asked him to go mining for netherite with him, he had agreed; a decision he wasn’t sure now had been a good one. Why did it have to be so _hot_ here?

“Put this on,” the piglin hybrid grunted as soon as they made it past the portal. He handed him something gold. A helmet, Ranboo realized.

It had never made sense to Ranboo, wearing gold in the Nether. He felt vulnerable trading sturdy netherite for weak gold. He understood the _why_ of it, that piglins were impressed by gold and therefore wouldn’t attack. But the _how_ of it didn’t make sense. Shouldn’t they be _more_ impressed with netherite, a metal much rarer and harder to obtain?

Wordlessly, he put the gold helmet on his head.

Techno didn’t bother. He just took his helmet off completely; his golden crown could be seen clearly. Besides, he was half-piglin or something. They probably would leave him alone because of that.

The rest of Techno’s armor wasn’t his; it was Dream’s. Techno had apparently taken one of the man’s lives, and had automatically taken his inventory as well. That meant he was using Dream’s armor, weapons, and tools instead of his own.

Just like weapons and tools, armor was designed to be worn by a variety of body shapes and sizes; the protection it afforded was more magical than physical, anyway. That didn’t mean that all armor fit all bodies, or that individuals didn’t forge their armor with their own needs and physique in mind.

Dream was lithe and slender; Technoblade was bulky and muscular. He had lost a lot of body mass in Dream’s prison, it was true; but in the three weeks he had been home, with Phil’s unique blend of gentle persuasion and merciless bullying, he had gained a good bit of that weight back.

There were other considerations. “Why did he use _emeralds_ of all things to trim his armor?” Techno grumbled. “I look like I should be peddlin’ a mini game on Hypixel, not going into battle.”

“It definitely looks better on him,” Ranboo said, and Techno grunted his agreement.

That was something that Ranboo had noticed about the piglin; it was surprisingly hard to make him genuinely mad. If a person made a joke, even a joke at his expense, and meant it in good fun, he would almost always either play along or at the very least laugh. For a man of his reputation, he was surprisingly humble. The realization had come as something of a surprise.

When Ranboo had had his falling out with L’Manburg and Phil had invited him to move north with him and Techno, he had expected a piglin brute hybrid to be ... well, brutish. Strong, dumb, and equipped with a sizable ego and a quick temper. He had done all that he could to get in the man’s good graces and most of the time simply stayed out of his way.

That was when he lived in a small shack in Techno’s backyard. Now he lived under the same roof. He had seen the man after he had been tortured. He had heard him wake up screaming from nightmares. Technoblade may be the Blood God, but he could bleed just the same as anyone else.

He had also seen the man studying classical literature, mythology, and psychology. He’d heard him talk with Phil at length about physics and redstone capabilities. Had heard about the Potato Wars and next-tier strategies he had used to come out the victor, including farming potatoes by hand for 11 hours a day and writing algorithms to keep track of his enemy’s progress.

Technoblade was the most non-brutish brute Ranboo had ever heard of.

“We’re here,” Techno said suddenly, and Ranboo looked up to find himself in a crimson forest. “Sorry, I need a Soul Speed book for my boots, and some ender pearls. Maybe some fire charges. Do you mind?”

Ranboo had no idea what he was talking about, until he heard a grunting noise off to the side. A piglin, a trader, came into view. It grunted at them, and Ranboo could have sworn he heard the noise go up at the end like it was asking a question.

To his shock, Techno grunted back, then made a snorting sound. It was a language, he understood suddenly. They were speaking.

It probably shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did that piglins could speak to one another. They had a society of sorts after all. But he was used to thinking of them as primitive, barely above animals. He flushed to think that he, a hybrid himself, could harbor such ignorant stereotypes.

The two spent a few minutes grunting and snorting back and forth, until the piglin abruptly turned and walked away. “We’re to follow,” Techno said. “She’s taking us to their bastion.”

“She’s a ... she?” Ranboo asked awkwardly.

Techno almost seemed surprised at Ranboo’s question. “Urzul is female,” he confirmed. The piglin in question heard her name, turned back, saw that they weren’t talking to her, and resumed walking. Ranboo started walking after her, and Techno brought up the rear. Now that he was paying attention, she did seem more feminine than masculine in build. “Can you honestly not tell?” Techno asked from behind him.

“They ... all look very similar, to me,” Ranboo confessed.

Behind him, Techno was quiet. Ranboo wondered if he had finally insulted the man, but, “to be fair, all endermen look the same to me,” he finally drawled.

* * *

Urzul lead them to one of the nicest bastions Ranboo had ever seen. “It isn’t ruined!” he exclaimed in surprise.

Techno said something to Urzul, Urzul said something back, and Techno translated: “she says that they’ve become very rich through trading. It’s brought a lot of honor to the clan.”

“Is that how it works?” Ranboo asked. His scalp itched in the heat; he took off his helmet to scratch it.

Immediately he was surrounded by angry sounding squeals. A hand came out of nowhere to push the helmet back on; he saw Techno out of the corner of his eye. “Leave it on,” he said simply. Then said something to the piglins in their own language. They went back and forth that way for a few minutes until everyone seemed to relax. More than relax; some piglins seemed almost amused by the situation.

“What did you say to them?” Ranboo asked, curious about the abrupt change in mood.

“I told them that even though you are tall, that’s how your people are, and that you are still a child,” Techno responded. “Piglin culture is very indulgent to the young. You have gone from a potential threat to a confused child to them.”

Ranboo paused. That was ... something. “Why is it so important to keep gold on, anyway?” he asked. “Are they _that_ obsessed with wealth?”

Techno shook his head. “It’s not about wealth,” he said. “It’s about peace. Someone who is wearing gold armor is highly visible. Gold armor is more pretty than practical; it breaks easily and offers little protection. So wearing golden armor symbolizes the desire for peace. It shows that we want to trade instead of raid their bastion.”

Ranboo thought for a moment. “So when I took the helmet off ...?”

“It was an act of aggression, yes,” Techno said.

As if the word summoned him, a huge brute suddenly stood in their way. He grunted angrily at Ranboo, then Techno. Techno grunted back and stepped forward. They grasped elbows briefly, right forearm to right forearm, then both started to walk away. “Ranboo, you can come with us, but stay in the crowd,” Techno yelled back over his shoulder. “And whatever happens, don’t interfere.”

Those were ... not encouraging words. The piglins were talking over one another, seemingly very excited. They started to form a circle. Ranboo joined the circle, to see Technoblade and the large brute in the center.

The brute crossed his arms over his chest, then jerked them down harshly to his side, both hands in fists. Techno took off his armor and threw it to the side; his weapons followed. He then repeated the same gesture back, although his motions weren’t as severe.

Both men then crouched down and put their fists up, and Ranboo realized that they were going to fight.

It was brutal. This wasn’t a boxing match or duel. There were no rituals after the hand gesture, no rules that seemed to be present. Just violence and damage. At one point the brute grabbed Techno’s hair and yanked; at another he could have sworn he saw Techno jab at the brute’s eye.

Then suddenly they pulled apart. Both men were panting hard and torn up. Techno’s nose looked broken and blood dripped from his open mouth; the brute had a gash on his cheek and an eye almost completely swollen.

The brute said something, and crossed his hands over his chest again. Instead of jerking them to his sides, however, he sunk down onto his knees at Techno’s feet. Techno said something to him, they grasped elbows again, and it seemed to be over. The piglins of the clan were all talking again, and seemed to be ... happy about something?

Just in case there was more to this event, Ranboo waited for Techno to approach him. “What was that?” he asked as soon as he had.

“Umm ... fight for dominance, I think you’d call it?” Techno responded. “Strongest brute in the clan fights the strongest newcomer.”

“And he lost? Right?”

Techno laughed. “Yeah, I won,” he affirmed.

“But they’re happy about that?” Ranboo didn’t understand.

“It’s not about ... winnin’ or losin’,” Techno said. “It’s about honor and strength. It’s ... it’s really hard to translate, I’m not gonna lie.”

Ranboo thought for a second. “So it’s about honor and strength?” he asked. “It doesn’t matter who wins as long as everyone fought honorably?”

“Fought bravely, yeah,” Techno said. “That’s almost it. It’s more-” He cut himself off, seeing a small group approaching. “I was afraid of this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Afraid of what?” Ranboo asked, concerned again. But then the group had reached them, led by the oldest and smallest adult piglin Ranboo had ever seen. The weazened old piglin gestured to Techno. Techno obediently bowed his head, and she put a pair of golden rings on his tusks. Techno tried to say something to her, but she just patted his cheek fondly and walked off. The rest of the piglins around her descended on Techno, talking over each other about something.

There was a tug at Ranboo’s side. He looked down to see the old piglin. She gestured to him and began to walk away. He followed, confused.

She led him back to the clearing where Techno and the brute had fought. For a horrible second Ranboo thought he was meant to fight _her,_ but instead she reached up to him. He bowed his head, confused. She put her hand on the top of his head and pushed down. Hoping that he understood, Ranboo kneeled at her feet, the way he had seen the brute kneel at Techno’s feet. It seemed to satisfy her.

The ancient piglin then began to talk.

She talked _a lot,_ actually. She went on and on, grunting and snorting, seeming not to care that he understood none of it. He nodded whenever she paused to take a breath, and tried to at least look like he was paying attention.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye; he recognized Techno. To his shock, Techno approached and kneeled beside him, listening intently to the old piglin. She said something to Techno, patted his head, then went back to talking at Ranboo.

Eventually, she seemed to run out of things to say. She patted Ranboo’s cheek, exactly as she had Techno’s, and walked off.

“What was that?” Ranboo asked, thoroughly confused.

“You were being lectured by the clan’s matriarch,” Techno told him. “She was explaining to you how taking off your gold armor earlier put the safety of your clan in jeopardy. Also that you are too tall and if we stay you need to not grow any taller.”

Ranboo was used to people complaining about his height. He was amused that she had taken it upon herself to ... wait a second. “If we stay?” he asked Techno.

The piglin hybrid looked a little sheepish. “That’s what they were talking to me about earlier,” he explained. “They want us to stay and become part of the clan.”

Ranboo ... didn’t know what to do with that. “And you said ...?”

Techno chuckled. “Don’t worry, kid; I have no desire to rejoin piglin society. Although it was a huge honor to be asked.”

* * *

If any resentment lingered over their gracious refusal to join the clan, all was forgiven when they saw Techno’s gold. He insisted on paying a fair price for the items they needed; the clan insisted that he keep the tusk rings he has been awarded.

They were mining netherite later when Ranboo decided to broach a question he had been thinking about. “How does piglin culture work?” he asked. “Who is the clan matriarch? Why would they assume we wanted to join their clan?”

Techno was silent a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts. Ranboo waited patiently for him to be ready.

Finally, he spoke. “So, for the most part, females stay in the clan they’re born into and males leave,” he said. “That’s a broad statement, but traditionally that’s how it works. Males then go off, either by themselves or in pairs, and find a clan to accept them in. Both sexes trade and hunt, but men are the protectors of the clan and women are the historians and record-keepers. Again, broadly speaking.” He shrugged. “If a male wants to become a historian or a female wants to become a warrior, they’re welcome; but it’s uncommon.”

He thought for another minute. “The sexes don’t usually ... pair off ... like they do in humans,” he continued. “It happens sometimes, and no one is _coerced_ into doing anything with anybody they don’t want. But most little piglins don’t know who their father is.”

Ranboo frowned. “That’s kinda sad,” he said.

Techno actually laughed. “No it’s not,” he said. “It doesn’t matter as much to them. And the _entire clan_ raises the little ones. Literally every male in the clan is your father, just as much as any other. Your mother is your mother, and every other female is your aunt. And kids are _taken care of._ There isn’t an adult in a clan that won’t give their last bite of food to any child that asks for it. Because they’re your future. And you take care of your future.”

It was Ranboo’s turn to go quiet while he though. “So the clan thought that you were a lone male looking for a clan?” he asked.

Techno nodded beside him. “And it was a great honor to be invited,” he said. “Piglin ancestry is matrilineal — you keep track of your mothers, back at least five generations. That way you can make sure that you’re not, ah, _gettin’ cozy_ with any of your cousins. Oh, hang on.” He had exposed a vein of debris. Ranboo came over and helped him dig out the tough blocks. They then resumed digging.

“So what is your, uh, matrilineal line?” Ranboo finally asked.

Techno, to his surprise, laughed. “My mother was human,” he responded.

And Ranboo could see where that would be a problem. “Is that why you didn’t accept their offer to join their clan?” he asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Techno said. “Again, I have no desire to join. And they made it clear that my lack of a motherline and your strangeness would not put too great a strain on the clan’s honor.”

Ranboo laughed in shock, a harsh bark of a sound. “They actually said that?”

He saw Techno shrug out of the corner of his eye. “The Nether is harsh,” he said. “Piglin society isn’t big on sugar coating things. It is what it is, and there’s no need to pretend otherwise.” A pause. “Actually, to say what you don’t mean, even because you’re being polite, is considered a lie.”

”Oh,” Ranboo replied. And silently thought to himself that that was probably why Techno was so unassuming when it came to jokes at his expense. “Oh, found some debris!”

“Oh? Pog!” Techno came over to help him dig the debris out.

* * *

They talked about mundane things after that — the snow storm that had hit a few days ago, the wandering trader that had stopped by, and Ranboo’s many pets. Ranboo found himself relaxing more and more, and enjoying the piglin hybrid’s company.

It was in the middle of the night when they arrived back at the cottage. Phil met them at the door with a yawn, then went back to bed. As an Overworld hybrid, he needed significantly more sleep than either Techno or Ranboo needed.

Techno dumped the debris in his inventory into the furnaces to melt, then went to bed himself. Ranboo waited until the bedroom door closed behind him before emptying his own debris into the same furnace. He had come to support his friend, not enrich himself. Satisfied, he headed for his own bed.

* * *

Several days later, an armor stand in his bedroom contained some of the most beautiful netherite armor he had ever seen. It was edged with emeralds and etched with what looked like redstone. Unlike Dream’s armor, the accents were tasteful and enhanced the overall look.

Against the stand rested a gleaming netherite sword, emerald embedded in its golden hilt.

 _Had some extra,_ the note attached to the set said. It was signed simply “T”.

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Ending coming next!


End file.
